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Each morning, I eat the past with my breakfast and
gulp my wishes with them. The more I chase them,

the more they grow thorns on the basement of my memory.
Letting go is an act of remembering to forget what we oath to drop behind,

but In me, there’s a place of rest for undying things, things that cling to our
body with time, things that crave to live even if the body rots.

Nothing breaks this body than the graving of what it is made of; the scars,
the remnants of hope for reminiscing, yet we shove them into extinction.

Here, I fit fading faces into the home of my body and nurse their bleakness into live.
I mine joy from them like squeezing a dry orange into a fountain of sweetness,

and river my thoughts with it. I green my dryness by being its refuge
and chameleon my brokenness by loosing free from them.

This body will bungalow every homeless thing, everything that fails to evening our past.
It’ll embalm the nights you failed to goodbye, and the days you innocence yourself with joy.

Even if death glories over this body, your body too will house its presence.


About the Writer

Wisdom Adediji, NGP xi, is a Nigerian genre bending writer. His works have appeared/ forthcoming on kalahari review, African writer magazine, spill words, kreative diadem, Icefloe press, Eboquills, Nanty greens, and elsewhere. He studies Geography at the university of Ibadan and writes from there. He tweets @wisdomadedij


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